


Wrapped Around Your Dreams

by ausgezeichnet



Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: F/M, Julia Wicker goes full goddess, M/M, dream stuff, the penny/julia is based off that anointing scene from canon and doesn't go further than that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-15
Updated: 2019-03-15
Packaged: 2019-11-18 07:45:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 7,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18116399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ausgezeichnet/pseuds/ausgezeichnet
Summary: The monster finds another god, and takes Quentin and Julia with him to reclaim his stone organ-- with unexpected consequences.Or: the gods find a way to fight back, and her name is Julia Wicker.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Fleetwood Mac's "Dreams," because I can only use titles from song lyrics. It's the law, folks.

Julia and Quentin sat on the penthouse couch, pouring over a book of Egyptian hieroglyphs. Research materials littered the table in front of them, scrolls covered in hieroglyphs and dusty books intermixed with old Chinese takeout containers. When Julia woke early this morning, Q had already been sitting on the couch, muttering to himself as he transcribed yet another ancient Egyptian temple carving. Despite their best efforts, they were no closer to discovering the location of the mandrake god’s grave.

Quentin threw the scroll he had been examining back onto the table and scrubbed his hands over his face. “This isn’t getting us anywhere,” he said.

Julia closed the book, turning towards her friend. “Q. When was the last time you slept?” she asked.

Quentin sighed, flopping back against the couch. He shook his head, gesturing with his hands. “I don’t know. It doesn’t matter, okay? If we just- we need to figure this out, Jules. He won’t wait for long.”

“Hello, Quentin,” said the monster’s voice from directly behind them, and both Quentin and Julia jumped as the monster’s hands clamped around the back of the couch, fingers flexing with ominous inhuman strength.

“Jesus!” said Q, startling upwards.

The monster scowled. “That is not my name, Quentin. I don’t even like this… Jesus.”

“No, it’s just- You scared me a little bit, that’s all,” Quentin said, attempting a smile. Julia tried to smile beside him.

“Hmm,” said the monster. “But we are friends, Quentin. I should not scare you.”

“Of course,” said Quentin, falsely chipper, avoiding the monster’s eyes.

“Good,” said the monster. “Then we’ll go.”

“No-” Quentin started to say, but the monster had already grabbed their shoulders and teleported them away.

Quentin and Julia both fell onto the floor when they landed, suddenly finding themselves without the couch to support them. They both picked themselves up, looking around warily. They stood at the end of a long hallway lined with numbered rooms. The air smelled strongly of disinfectant, masking the scent of blood and piss and pain. A hospital.

“What- Where are we?” Quentin asked.

The monster didn’t answer, turning around and pushing through a door at the end of the hallway into a long, dimly-lit room. A dozen metal-frame hospital beds lined each wall. Mint-green privacy curtains pulled around a metal frame obscured one patient at the end of the row on the right side, but all other patients were visible, and seemed to be unconscious, with the crisp white sheets and generic blue blankets pulled precisely up to their chests.

All the patients were connected to dozens of steadily blinking monitors, but no one moved. The room was eerily silent, without a single movement except for a nurse leaning over a patient midway through the left row, shining a light into an elderly woman’s pupils and making notes on a clipboard.

“It’s a coma ward,” said Julia.

The monster stepped purposefully through the room, ignoring them. The nurse looked up at them and opened his mouth to ask a question. The monster waved his hand, and the nurse crumpled forward across his patient, a trickle of blood running from his mouth.

“Hey!” Quentin said, rushing forward to match the monster’s pace. “Hey, these aren’t gods, they’re just sick people. No hurting anyone, okay?”

The monster refused to stop, walking towards the bed on the end, the only one obscured by curtains. With a flick of his hand, the privacy screen wrenched open with a horrible screeching noise.

The monster sighed. “Fine. I’ll only hurt the god. Look.”

Julia came up beside Quentin and the monster, and the three of them gazed at the sleeping form of the patient before them. The sleeping man was dark-skinned and dark-haired, completely immobile, with blankets pulled up neatly underneath his armpits like all other patients. No IV lines or monitor lines snaked out from under his blankets, which were musty and dust-encrusted, as if the nurses had simply left the man alone for several years. All the other patients looked somehow withered, but this man still glowed with the vitality of youth and life. Still, his eyes were shut, and he seemed unaware of their presence.

“Who is that?” asked Julia.

The monster didn’t answer, moving forward to peer down into the sleeping man’s face. The monster flicked his pointer finger, and the man’s eyes fell open, although the rest of his face remained still in sleep. Julia and Quentin gasped. The man’s eyes were inhumanly large and filled with the vibrant colors of a swirling nebula, dotted with stars that rotated slowly in the abyss.

“This one is called Morpheus,” said the monster. “But I can’t touch him. So you’re going to talk to him, Quentin.”

And with that, the monster grabbed Quentin’s arm, wrenching with inhuman strength, and smashed Quentin’s hand down onto Morpheus’ face despite his attempts to resist.

“No!” Julia shrieked, but Quentin dropped like a stone onto the floor. She hurried to his side, checking his pulse, which was steady and slow as his breathing. “What did you do?” she demanded, looking up at the monster.

The monster sighed, smiling a little. “Quentin’s helping me,” he said, leaning against the bedside table. “Because he’s my friend. Morpheus is so tricky.”

Julia took a steadying breath, still kneeling by Quentin’s body crumpled like a ragdoll on the floor.

“Oh, don’t worry,” the monster said. “He’s just sleeping.”

Julia glared up at him. “Will he wake up?”

The monster shrugged. “I don’t know.”

Julia stood up. “Fine. Then I’m going with him,” she said, reaching her hand to touch Morpheus’ sleeping face. She immediately went limp, dropping back down onto the floor next to Quentin’s body.

The monster sighed in the sudden silence. _So dramatic, and **so** boring._


	2. Chapter 2

Julia sat up. She was sitting on the pavement outside an elegant three story brick house. The front of the house protruded out to form a three-sided entryway. The front of the entryway featured a light blue door with a circular window, capped by a white-painted arch, while three large white-frame windows dominated the second floor of the half-hexagon. Ivy crawled on the brick walls of the house, and hedges neatly bordered the property.

She stood up, brushing off her jeans. There was something strange about this house, completely separate from the fact that she was dreaming, her body unconscious in a hospital wing. No, she could feel something, a compulsion, perhaps. The house demanded her attention, and she found her eyes fixated on the front door. She should go inside. She shouldn’t turn around. Inside the house would be much more interesting than the outside-

Julia shook her head, shaking away the cobwebs. She turned around and her jaw dropped. Outside the house, there was- nothing. The house was suspended on an endless black plane, surrounded by nothingness. A black void surrounded the house, which nonetheless appeared to be lit with the last golden rays of afternoon sunlight. The house was the only thing that existed in the emptiness of this dream realm. She needed to find Quentin.

She turned back to the door, trying the handle. When it refused to give, she rapped the metal knocker against the wood.

Morpheus opened the door. His nebula eyes were swirling faster now, open and interested. He was slim and tall, dressed in a smart charcoal grey suit.

“Ah, Miss Wicker,” Morpheus said with an unplaceable accent. “So nice of you to join us.”

“Us?” she asked, trying to peer past him.

“Of course. Your friend Quentin arrived just before you did. I must admit I’m surprised to have so many visitors,” he said, opening the door further and beckoning her inside with a genteel sweep of his arm. “Delighted, of course. Do come in.”

She walked inside, peering around cautiously. “What is this place?” she asked, following Morpheus down the hallway.

Morpheus turned his head slightly and smirked as he led her down the hallway and turned right, walking through the door into a tastefully decorated sitting room. “It’s the house of one of my favorite followers,” he said. “I’ve had many over the years, but none in recent memory quite as effective as Sigmund Freud.”

“This is Freud’s house?”

“Well, a dream of it,” Morpheus said. “We aren’t exactly in Vienna, darling.”

They entered the sitting room, and Julia saw Quentin perched awkwardly on an elegant couch, upholstered with flowered cushions. He was clutching a delicate tea cup, looking lost. He jumped up as soon as Julia entered the room, spilling tea all over himself. She ran over to him, catching him in a hug.

“Yes, yes,” said Morpheus. “Touching reunions later. Now, about your monster problem.”

Julia and Quentin turned, sinking back down onto the couch. “How do you know about the monster?” Quentin asked.

Morpheus rolled his eyes. “I’m asleep, darling, not dead. One hears things, you know, even in a coma ward. Even though the dreams are distractingly de-lic-ious. But no matter. How are you planning on killing him?”

Quentin and Julia shared a look. “Well, actually, we were- um. We were helping him build a new body,” Quentin said.

Julia nodded. “He’s possessing a friend of ours,” she said.

Morpheus went pale, sinking back down onto a matching upholstered armchair on the other side of the sitting room. “Dear lord,” he said. “Do you have any idea what you’re proposing?”

“We know it’s not ideal,” said Julia.

“We have no choice,” said Quentin, heated. “I won’t kill him. Not when there’s a chance we can save him.”

Morpheus sighed, wringing his hands. “As much as I sympathize, I simply cannot agree. If the monster is allowed to reclaim his body—well. It won’t just be your friend’s life at stake.”

“Then give us another option,” Julia said, leaning forward. “Help us.”

Morpheus looked up at her, sharply. He stood up, suddenly, the stars in his eyes whirring faster. Julia found that she couldn’t look away as he stepped closer, staring directly into her eyes as he strode across the plush carpeted floor. The golden light from the window behind the sofa illuminated his eyes, and Julia could see universes in them, real and imagined and not yet dreamed up by humans or gods. Morpheus laughed, suddenly, clapping his hands.

“What?” Quentin asked.

“Your friend here is something quite special,” Morpheus said. “I’m not even quite sure she’s aware- no. Well. In any case, I can’t help you. But perhaps she can.”

Morpheus snapped his fingers, and the house vanished around them. They were standing inside a dark cave, illuminated by firelight. Morpheus’ suit was gone, replaced by white robes.

He was still smirking. He clapped his hands together, then gestured to his left. A door appeared in the wall, glowing and hissing around the edges.

“Quentin,” he said. “I believe you have a long-overdue visit to make. Lead him out. Remember, it’s in the places you visit least.”

“Well, that’s incredibly vague and unhelpful,” Quentin said. “Could you maybe tell me where that goes?”

Morpheus clapped his hands again, and the door flung open. “We don’t have much time, Quentin Coldwater. Go to him. He’s in my realm, so I can reach him, for now. And trust your friends.”

Quentin gulped, and looked at Julia, who hesitantly nodded. “Fine,” he said, squaring his shoulders and walking forward into the blinding light of the doorway. The door slammed shut behind him and vanished from existence.

Julia and Morpheus remained facing each other, suddenly alone in the cave. Morpheus suddenly seemed taller, older, and infinitely more tired.

“He will kill me no matter what I do,” Morpheus said.

“No,” Julia said. “There has to be a way.”

Morpheus stepped towards her, reaching towards his own chest. “There is a way, Miss Wicker. That’s a very unique spark you’ve got there. Grown into something new. Quite remarkable, really. It’s exhausted, but not dead.”

“So how do I wake it up?”

Morpheus’ eyes crinkled. “You know, I have loved your dreams. Especially the ones of Fillory, when you were a child. So creative.”

Julia took a step back.

“Oh, don’t worry,” said Morpheus, continuing to advance. His hand reached into his own chest. “I’m not like Reynard. Your dreams of him were quite horrible. No, I want to give you something,” he said, gasping as he pulled a blinding light out of his own body.

Julia’s back thudded against the obsidian cave wall. The light in Morpheus’ hands illuminated the entire cave, its reflection blazing in both of their eyes.

“What is that?” she asked, grasping the cave wall with both hands.

“It’s my light. A gift, Julia,” he said. “You’ll need this if you hope to defeat him.”

Julia looked at him warily. “How?”  
  
Morpheus smiled, eyes sad. “He needs a jail, and the jail needs a jailor. He’s my brother, in a certain sense. I owe this to him. We cannot run away from the things that haunt our dreams forever. You have a traveler, yes?”

“Penny?”

“Yes. Take this. And go to Penny. He’s dreaming of you,” Morpheus said, smirking again. “Take the both of us back to the prison. And save your friend. Do you understand?”

“But- why can’t you do this? I’m just an ex-goddess! I don’t even have magic!” she protested.

Morpheus smiled again, suddenly sleepy-looking. “No, I think you are much more than that. You’ll know what to do.”

He extended the light forward in both hands. Julia reached out her right hand, hesitant, then grabbed the light and raised it to her lips. She opened her mouth as wide as possible, swallowing down the glowing orb.

She screamed as light exploded out of her body, diffusing the whole cave and shattering the entirety of the black void to pieces.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was describing the exterior of the home that is now the Sigmund Freud Museum in London, which is quite beautiful. I've never been, so my description of the interior is definitely totally wrong. You can take a look here: http://www.ivisitlondon.org/dailyivisit/2016/5/4/ivisit-the-freud-museum


	3. Chapter 3

Quentin walked through the door in Morpheus’ cave and directly into the Physical Kids cottage, bewildered. “Hello?” he called.

“Ah, Q,” came Eliot’s voice from the other room. “I don’t seem to recall summoning you this time. Never mind. Fancy a drink?”

“Eliot?” Q said. “Holy shit. Where are we?”

Eliot paused in the other room, then walked to the entranceway to get a good look at Q. Quentin looked exhausted, his hair shorter than normal, but he- wasn’t wearing an outfit that Eliot remembered. He definitely didn’t remember this look of sheer desperation and hope in his eyes, except for that brief moment in the park. He couldn’t remember this Q at all.

“Q?” he asked, suddenly hesitant. “Are you… actually here?”

With that, Quentin rushed forward, grabbing Eliot in a fierce hug. Tears sprung to his eyes and he lingered in the embrace.

Eliot pulled away, grabbing him by the shoulders. “Not to kill the moment, Q, but how the fuck are you here?” Eliot asked. His fingers suddenly tightened. “Oh god. Did the monster possess you too? Am I in your happy place now?”

Eliot stepped back, looked around at the cottage wildly, “I wouldn’t have expected this to be your happy place. Don’t you think it should look different? I don’t know, more, nerdy? Not that I think you’re hopelessly nerdy, but, well, you kind of are, no offense, and fuck, does that mean I’m dead?”

“Hey, no,” Quentin said, stepping back forward into Eliot’s personal space, his eyes lighting up. “No. He’s not possessing me. We talked to a god. Morpheus, actually. He said- he said you were in his realm, so he could reach you. He sent me here.”

“Oh. Well, then.” Eliot said, panic deflating. “Welcome to my subconscious, Q.”

Quentin looked around, taking in the well-lit, empty cottage. “So- this is where you’ve been? This whole time?”

Eliot nodded, suddenly looking worried. “How long has it been? Is everyone okay? How’s Margo?”

“It’s been, uh, six weeks? Maybe? I was memory-wiped for part of it, so it’s a bit hard to remember,” Quentin answered. “Margo’s in Fillory. She’s fine. But- shit. We don’t have time for this. We’ve got to get out of here, El.”

Eliot shook his head. “We can’t. Monsters in all my memories. We’re only safe if we stay here.”

“Fuck,” Quentin said, left hand rubbing through his too-short hair. “There has to be something. Morpheus said- it’s in the places you visit least?”

“Oh, shit,” said Eliot. “Okay, Q. I want you to imagine me. A memory version of me. Imagine him here.”

Quentin let his eyes slide shut, picturing for a minute. And then opened them to see an Eliot from his past—middle aged Eliot, dressed in Fillory clothes from the mosaic quest, smiling with a gray beard and laugh lines around his eyes.

The real Eliot stared. “Not the version of myself I would have chosen, but there’s no accounting for taste. How is this even possible? Last I checked we were in my subconscious.”

Quentin shook his head. “I don’t know. The power of a god?”

“Well,” Eliot said. “Get ready for the world’s shittiest walk down memory lane.”

Eliot grabbed his hand, pulling him into the main room and pushing him down onto the couch on the back side of the bar. Eliot closed his eyes, conjuring up the blank chalkboard.

Quentin looked quizzically over at Charleton, sitting on the opposite couch, still pressing a towel to his stomach. Charleton raised one hand and gave a weak wave. “Hello,” he said.

“Hi,” Q said. “Uh. Who are you, exactly?”

“Oh. I’m the body the monster possessed for a few thousand years. But I’m here now. And I’m learning to fuck!” Charleton said.

Quentin’s eyes went wide.

“Not quite what you meant to say there, buddy,” Eliot said, whirling around, chalk in hand. “Alright, Q, focus. We’ve got to go through your worst, most traumatic memories to find your door. Any ideas?”

“That, uh, might be a long fucking list,” Quentin said. “Where do you want to start?”


	4. Chapter 4

Julia heaved a breath as she sat up off the floor of the hospital ward. A siren was blaring somewhere in the distance, indistinct announcements coming over the hospital loudspeaker. She looked down at her hands. Her skin was glowing and emitting a slight mist. She clamped her eyes shut.

“Julia!” the monster exclaimed. “Oh, good. The waiting-for-you-to-wake-up game was getting _soooo_ boring. And I don’t think the hospital likes me very much.”

Julia shook her head, trying to process the sudden rush of power. She could feel the dreams around her, feel the man on the bed next to Morpheus’ dream of a walk with his dog along an endless cliff through a field of swaying grass, and she felt how delicious it would be to fall asleep, to properly savor this man’s worship--

No. She could distantly sense Quentin’s dreams beside her. Morpheus had given her this power for a reason.

She looked up, and saw the monster flinch back.

“Your eyes are… different,” he said. “What did you do, Julia?”

She lunged forward, willing the monster to fall asleep with all her might. She grabbed the monster’s hand just as he teleported away. She gasped as they were wrenched through space and time, and she landed with a thud in the ruins of a Greek temple, the glittering sunlit Mediterranean in sight.

She closed her eyes, focusing on the body before her. The body’s mind felt crowded—Eliot, Quentin, Charleton, even the monster. The monster was seething. He wouldn’t stay asleep for long, not even with all her newly-acquired power focused on him.

She looked around. The hillside dropped away down to the sea about twenty feet in front of her. On all sides, they were surrounded by half knocked-over pillars. Eliot’s body lay on a partially preserved mosaic. She had no idea where they were.

Julia knelt down next to the prone body, grabbing the monster’s—or rather, Eliot’s stolen hand. She felt the monster bucking against the imposed sleep. They didn’t have long. She closed her eyes. She just needed to find Quentin—

And suddenly, she was standing back in the Physical Kids cottage, next to Eliot, who was writing a long list on a chalkboard.

“Jules!” she heard Quentin exclaim from behind her. She turned around to see him standing up off the couch. Eliot looked at her in shock. Quentin gasped.

“Jules, what happened to your eyes? They look like- holy shit, they look like Morpheus’ eyes, with the nebulas,” Quentin said, stepping closer.

“We don’t have time for that now,” she said. “You need to find a way out of here.”

Quentin nodded. “We’re trying. Eliot’s helping me.”

She nodded. “Good. I won’t be able to hold him for long, even with all this extra juice. You need to find a way out of here, Quentin. And _soon_. Or I won’t be able to help either of you.”

“Jules-” Quentin began, but Julia waved her hand, and the scene dissolved. She was back at the temple, kneeling beside Eliot’s prone body.

Shit. She needed Penny.

She settled into a cross-legged pose, sent one more impulse to _sleep_ towards the monster’s seething, roiling unconscious, and went searching.


	5. Chapter 5

Julia was radiant, golden. Penny was washing her feet again in the ritual tent in Fillory, watching the oil glisten on her perfect legs. He kissed her ankle, the inside of her knee, working his way up her delicate thigh, feeling her shuffle and gasp-

“Ohhh-kay,” said Julia’s voice, from behind him. “I guess I’ll take this as a compliment?”

Penny whirled around. Julia was standing there, glowing slightly.

“Am I- dreaming?” he asked, standing up. The dream-Julia behind him pouted.

“Yes, actually,” glowing-Julia said. “And I need your help. You need to come find me.”

“Holy shit,” Penny said, stepping closer. “What happened to your eyes?”

Julia smirked a little. Her nebula eyes were fathomless. She looked radiant, otherworldly, and not quite human. Penny took a step closer, fascinated.

“I’ll explain later,” Julia said. “I’m showing you where I am. Can you come find me?”

Penny blinked, and he knew where he needed to go. He nodded. Goddess-Julia vanished from the ritual tent in his dream.

He turned around to look at his dream Julia, beautiful and naked and glistening, feet draped on the edge of the ceremonial feet-washing bowl.

“Rain check?” he asked, eyes traveling up and down her body with a smile, before closing his eyes and willing himself to wake up. He felt the pull of Julia’s power on his soul, and traveled to the place to which she drew him.

He stumbled slightly on the edge of the mosaic in the temple ruins, watching Julia open her eyes. They were the same deep, starry nebulas of his dream.

“So I didn’t dream that bit,” Penny said.

“No,” Julia said, smiling serenely. “You didn’t.”

Eliot’s body began to buck slightly in Julia’s grip. A trickle of blood ran out of his nose.

“Shit,” Julia said emphatically. “We’re running out of time. Take us back to the hospital ward.”

“What hospital ward?” Penny asked.

Julia closed her eyes, and he suddenly could see the ward, Quentin’s body lying on the floor, and the prone body of Morpheus on the bed.

Penny nodded, grabbing Julia and Eliot’s body and traveling them away.

They suddenly found themselves besides Morpheus’ bed. The room was abuzz with nurses and hospital security officers and police officers. Morpheus was lounging against the far wall of the ward, looking bored despite the nurse who was trying to take the cigarette away from him. He seemed oddly tall, now that he was awake. He reached his long arm overhead in between drags on the cigarette, holding it out of reach of the frustrated nurse.

Two male nurses were lifting Quentin’s unconscious body onto the hospital bed which until recently had been occupied by Morpheus. Another pair of nurses were wheeling away a gurney covered in a white sheet—the nurse who the monster had killed. 

“Shit!” exclaimed the nurse holding the sleeping Quentin’s shoulders when he noticed Penny, Julia, and Eliot’s prone body at the foot of the bed. He dropped Quentin’s head roughly down onto the freshly-changed sheets.

“Shit, Larry!” said the one holding Quentin’s feet. “What the fuck,” he said, as he gently lowered Quentin’s lower half onto the bed. He then whirled around to face the group of intruders, eyes going wide.

“Hey guys,” said Penny, reaching forward to grab Quentin’s foot. Julia was still kneeling on the floor by Eliot’s body, which was now gently convulsing.

“Hurry,” Julia said, her eyes tight. “He’s fighting me.”

“Just in time, Miss Wicker,” said Morpheus, handing his cigarette to the exasperated nurse and striding over to grasp Penny’s shoulder. “Pity. I will miss being awake, if only for the novelty.”

The hospital security officers near the doors of the ward stared at them, mouths open. One pulled out her radio and began whispering furiously into the speaker. Penny gave them a nod, then traveled away. Back to Fillory. Back to the Blackspire.


	6. Chapter 6

Eliot and Quentin stood in their conjoined subconscious space, watching the memory of sixteen-year-old Quentin sitting in a psychiatrist’s office, fidgeting with the white hospital band around his left wrist. The woman sitting at the desk was leaning forward, patiently waiting for an answer, but this Quentin remained expressionless, silent, staring off into middle distance. 

“Please, son,” Ted Coldwater said from the other chair in the office. “We just want to help you.” 

They waited a moment as Quentin remained silent. 

“We’re going to recommend keeping him overnight,” said the sympathetic woman at the desk, and Ted reluctantly nodded his head. Quentin remained silent through the whole process. 

“Jesus, Q,” Eliot said. “But nope. Next one. Come on, quickly, unless you want a monster from the dawn of time to eat your soul.” 

They hurried out the door and back into the Happy Place, crossing First Hospitalization off the chalkboard. 

The memory of middle-aged Fillory Eliot let the creatures take him in Quentin’s memory of watching Alice die. 

The memory of the Alice who defeated Martin Chatwin took on the creatures in the fake mental hospital created by Julia and Marina. 

The Penny who’d protected Quentin from a possessed Mike took on the creatures in the memory of the depression monster and Benedict throwing himself to the dragon. 

A memory of Ted Coldwater sacrificed himself, oddly enough, in the memory of Quentin throwing his father’s model airplanes against the wall, and the monster telling Quentin that Eliot was dead. 

“Okay, Q,” Eliot said as they stumbled back into the Happy Place, slamming the door behind them. “We are _definitely_ going to talk about some of this shit later, but. It’s not working. Anything else? The place you go the least.” 

Q shook his head, chest heaving. “I don’t- I don’t know. Maybe childhood stuff?” 

Eliot stepped close to him, sliding a hand around his shoulder. “Q. Not to be overly dramatic, but we are literally going to die here if you can’t think of the right memory.” 

They walked back into the main room of the cottage, staring at the chalkboard side-by-side. Most of the memories had already been crossed out as being too inconsequential, or they’d tried them already. Still no door. 

Eliot heaved a breath. “You know, Q,” he said, “I, uh, went through this too. To escape the first time. And mine was a memory with you in it.” 

He pivoted elegantly, avoiding Q’s eyes. “It was the memory of me rejecting you in the throne room. Because I- hurt you. And I was afraid. You don’t think that it could _maybe_ be the same memory?” 

Quentin’s eyes widened. “Oh god,” he said. “I- um. Let’s try one more.” 

They walked back out the door, and then they were back in the cottage clearing in Fillory, standing at the edge of the mosaic. Dust filtered through the familiar golden light. 

They stood watching old Quentin turn around to look at old Eliot. Eliot, who wasn’t moving, sunk back in his chair. 

“Eliot,” old memory Quentin said, not quite a question. He already knew. Eliot was dead. 

The young Eliot standing on the edge of the mosaic felt a shiver go through his body. “You think this is it?” 

Q nodded. “The other stuff- I can’t help but think about that. Alice, the hospital, Benedict, I think about it all the time. Even you rejecting me. Because, um. My brain likes to remind me of all the shit I’ve done to hurt other people. But this- I can’t- I couldn’t ever quite process this.”

He turned to Eliot, voice suddenly choked. “You _died_. Again. Except this time it wasn’t a golem, or a dream, or an alternate reality- you were _dead_. And I was _alone_.” 

“Jesus, Q,” Eliot said, stepping forward to pull Quentin against his chest, taking a moment to press a kiss against his forehead. And when he opened his eyes, he saw the door behind him—the same door to the cottage that he had seen, but standing in the center of the mosaic. 

“Q,” he said, urgently. 

Quentin pulled out of the embrace and turned around. He took Eliot by the hand, looked back at him through his hair, then nodded, and determinedly pulled him out the door.


	7. Chapter 7

Quentin opened his eyes, and saw Penny 23 leaning over him, curious. They were in a dimly lit room, lit with torches. The Blackspire. 

“Julia!” Penny yelled. “He’s awake!”

Julia raised her hands from her position by Eliot's feet. Her left eye began to glow with the orange light of Reynard’s spark, while the right eye began to glow with a cosmic blue. 

Winds began whipping around the room, knocking Penny down. Both he and Quentin slid across the rough stone floor of the prison, feeling a great power pin them against the wall. 

Eliot’s body levitated in the middle of the room, with Julia standing before him, arms raised, furiously muttering under her breath. The powerful winds surged. The light emanating from Julia’s eyes became blinding, and Quentin averted his eyes, feeling the winds whip through his hair and the light sear his hands. The cacophony became overwhelming, noise and sound and power far beyond human comprehension. 

In midair, Eliot’s body convulsed, heaved, and coughed. The orange light of the monster spurted up out of his mouth. 

Julia guided the orange light of the monster through the whipping winds into the body of Morpheus, her teeth gritted in determination. Morpheus stood just to the side, seeming unaffected by the whirling power, opening his arms wide, and sighing as the monster’s essence settled into his body. 

Julia walked towards Morpheus, slow, unfazed by the swirling power in the room. She reached inside her own chest cavity, and pulled out Morpheus’ light. 

Screaming wordlessly in the maelstrom, hands quaking, she shoved the light back into his chest. Morpheus’ body fell back against the floor, asleep, and the rushing, screaming power died. Julia fell to her knees. Eliot’s body floated down to settle gently against the floor. 

Quentin and Penny uncovered their eyes, both stumbling to their feet. Penny rushed over to Julia’s side, Quentin to Eliot’s. 

“Are you okay?!?” Penny demanded, hands hovering around Julia, not sure if he was allowed to touch. She was still smoking slightly, although the otherworldly glow had faded. Julia slowly looked up at him, and he heaved a sigh of relief as he saw her normal human eyes, restored.

She was crying, but surged forward into his embrace. 

Quentin knelt by Eliot’s body, eyes wide. “Eliot?” he asked. 

Nothing. 

Quentin looked up at the fountain of magic on the other side of the room. Staggering to his feet, he walked over, reaching out to pull the library’s siphon off the top. He dropped the delicate device to the floor, smashing the gears underneath his foot. He closed his eyes as he felt magic flow back throw him, pure and strong. Unbridled. 

Quentin stumbled back over to Eliot’s body, past Penny and Julia, still wrapped up in each other. Quentin began the poppers for the CPR spell they’d all been forced to learn in their first week in a half-hearted attempt to save at least some of their lives. He went through the forms, fingers shaking but poppers flowing smoothly. It had to work. He wouldn’t accept any other outcome. 

Quentin had almost finished the spell when Eliot’s chest suddenly jerked out a breath. He fell to his knees and scrambled to Eliot’s side. 

“El? Eliot?!?” he said. 

“Fuck,” Eliot whispered, with feeling. “I haven’t been this sore since my first orgy in Ibiza.” 

Quentin smiled, his whole body relaxing as he slumped against the dark floor of the Darkspire.


	8. Chapter 8

Penny, Julia, Quentin, and Eliot stood around Morpheus’ prone body. 

“So…” Penny said. “If he’s the new host, then who’s the new jailor?”

Julia shook her head. “He’s both. He’s keeping the monster unconscious.” 

“But you couldn’t keep the monster unconscious, even with all that god power. He was convulsing, and shit,” Penny said, gesturing at Eliot. 

“Excuse me, what? I was _convulsing_?” Eliot said.

Julia winced. “Yeah, sorry about that. But Morpheus is a god. His body can handle containing the monster. And he knows what he’s doing. He told me.” 

“Okay. So it’s done,” Quentin said. “It’s done.” 

They stood another moment, looking down at Morpheus. His starry eyes, restored, remained open. His face was smooth, unperturbed. 

“Soo…” Penny said. “Back to Earth, everybody?” 

“Fillory for me, actually,” Eliot said. “Got to see my Bambi.” 

“Me too,” said Quentin. Eliot turned and stared at him. 

“Are you sure?” Eliot asked. 

Quentin simply nodded, tilting his head in a slight challenge. Julia smiled. 

“Okay then,” said Penny. “All aboard.” 

Linking hands, they traveled away into the Fillory throne room. The room was empty except for Margo, seated on her throne. She was looking down at a scroll, eyebrows furrowed. 

“Bambi?” Eliot called. 

Margo froze, eyes frozen on the parchment. Her hands began to shake. 

“Bambi, it’s me,” Eliot said, stepping forward cautiously. “It’s me.”

“No,” said Margo, the sound ripped from her chest. “You’re dead.” 

Eliot laughed softly, slowly ascending the dais. “Not quite. We promised to go together, didn’t we? Full Thelma and Louise. With better outfits, of course.”

With that, Margo looked up. Her lower lip began to wobble, and tears began spilling down her cheeks. Eliot ran the last few steps up to the dais, and she stood up out of the chair, throwing herself into Eliot’s arms. 

“You fucker,” she said, muffled into his chest. “You fucking motherfucker.” 

“Shh, I know,” Eliot said. “Won’t happen again. I promise.” 

They stayed like that for a long moment, suspended in time with each other. Then Fen ripped out of the side room with a scream. 

“Eliot! You’re alive!” she shrieked, throwing herself into the hug. 

“Oh, Fen. Hi,” Eliot said, suddenly awkward, but he wrapped an arm around her anyway. Fen immediately burst into tears against his side, and he patted her arm in a gesture that was likely supposed to be soothing. 

Margo pulled away from the embrace, leaving Fen to sob wordlessly against Eliot’s side. “One question,” she said, “Where’s the monster? Because I want to eviscerate that fucker for what he did to us.” 

“He’s trapped,” Quentin said, stepping forward a bit. “In the Blackspire. Forever.” 

“We thought he was trapped before,” Margo answered. “How can we be sure it’s going to stick? I say we firebomb the ever-loving fuck out of that shithole.”

“No,” Julia said. “He’s stuck in the subconscious of a dream god. There’s no safer place for him.”

“Fine,” Margo said. “I’d still feel better if the fucker was dead, but I guess I’ll take your word for it.” 

Eliot turned, gently steering the still-sobbing Fen pressed against his side as he rotated to face Quentin, Julia, and Penny. “About that. How, exactly, did you get me out of there?” 

“Well-” Julia began, before she stopped. Her eyes began to glow orange with power. 

“Julia?” Quentin asked. 

“Oh,” she said. “One minute.” 

And with that, Julia vanished in a blinding flash of light. 

“Julia!” Penny yelled. 

“Fuck,” Eliot sighed, “Well, never a dull moment.” 


	9. Chapter 9

Julia blinked, and the throne room in Fillory was gone. Persephone stood before her, emanating the same gentle light as ever and smiling beatifically.

“Welcome, Julia,” she said, smoothly tucking Julia’s arm into her arm and leading her down a dark hallway.

They walked through a massive pair of French doors into a great reception hall, two stories, with a glittering mirrored glass ceiling and black-suited waiters mingling through an immense crowd. The room was full of gods, some twenty feet tall and green, some flitting through the air, tiny and winged. Julia’s mouth dropped open as she looked around. To her left, an elephant god guzzled flutes of champagne, one after the other. To the right, she could sense a being of immense energy, but when she tried to look, her eyes simply diverted to the side, where a small bearded man in a green waistcoat was pickpocketing an elegant woman draped in glittering black fabric. The bearded man scowled at Julia as the elegant woman looked down with eyes flashing turquoise, swatting him away.

“What is this?” she asked.

Persephone smiled. “This is a rare occurrence, my child. A celebration of the gods, great and small. And we’re celebrating you.”

“Me?” Julia asked.

Persephone nodded. “You defeated the monster. At great cost, of course, but Morpheus knew the price, and we will always remember his sacrifice.”

“So… I did right, then?” Julia asked.

They passed between a pair of many-armed gods, debating and gesticulating wildly. Persephone gently turned Julia to face her once they’d cleared the arguing couple.

Persephone tilted her head, considering. “I know you’ve done right, my dear. But there is someone who would like to see you.”

She tucked Julia’s arm into hers again, moving through the party. Julia couldn’t help but stare as figures from beyond the borders of her imagination mingled with normal-looking humans. She belonged here, somehow. But then they reached a black door on the far side of the ballroom. With a sympathetic look, Persephone opened the door, and waited until Julia stepped through.

Julia stepped into darkness, again. But this darkness was different than Morpheus’ dream realm. This darkness had shape, form, personality. She walked ahead, hearing the click of Persephone shutting the door behind her. As she walked, tiny points of light began to bleed through the vacuum, until she found herself standing in a mirrored field of endless stars, stretching into infinity.

She saw the woman, then. She was made of darkness, only visible when she reflected the starlight. Her skin and hair were made of the purest black Julia had ever perceived, glimmering slightly like obsidian whenever the light struck. Her eyes, when she opened them, glowed gently, moonbeam white.

“Julia Wicker,” the woman said, in a gentle voice.

Julia remained silent, resisting the urge to sink to her knees. She was a goddess, too. But not like this. Nothing as elemental and ethereal as this.

“Hmm,” the woman said, gliding forward and circling Julia. “Do you know who I am?”

Julia shook her head.

“I am Nyx, goddess of night,” she said, circling around to stand directly in front of Julia. Even when she stood close, it was difficult to distinguish the goddess from the surrounding darkness. The borders between Nyx and the night seemed to bleed and fade. “Morpheus was my grandson.”

“Oh,” Julia said. “Oh, I’m so sorry. He was a hero. He sacrificed himself for us.”

“Yes,” said Nyx. “For you.”

The silence lingered, as Nyx considered her, eyes unfathomable.

“Do you know why you could defeat a monster older than time, Julia Wicker?”

“Uh, no, actually.” she said. “I have no idea. I thought I’d used all my power.”

Nyx huffed a laugh, a harsh sound. “No, Julia Wicker,” she said. “You have grown something new. Something this world has never before seen. Do you remember your charge from Our Lady Underground?”

“To… discover a new kind of magic,” Julia answered, hesitant.

“Hmm,” Nyx said. “Yes. And you have.”

“So… does that make me a goddess?” Julia asked.

“Perhaps,” Nyx answered, considering. “Perhaps not. We shall see what you become.”

Nyx drew back into the night, floating up into the air. She seemed to fade into the stars, her voice came from everywhere.

“On behalf of the Old Gods, I thank you,” she said, voice vibrating Julia’s eardrums. “Earth may keep its magic for now. You will supervise these… magicians.”

“Wait,” Julia said. “What am I supposed to-”

“Now,” Nyx’s voice thundered over hers, “Go!”

And with that, Julia found herself sinking into the suddenly liquid darkness until it consumed her whole. She screamed, but darkness flowed into her mouth, and then she was falling, falling, falling into black water. She thrashed, fighting towards the surface, and finally her mouth broke the surface. She heaved in air, treading the water of a cow pond in an ordinary field which perfectly reflected the starry night above.

“Fucking goddesses,” Julia said, emphatically, feeling her toes scrape the muddy bottom of the pond. She half swam, half stumbled to the shore, soaked to the bone and suddenly cold. But she could feel the spark of light within her, illuminated once more. Her spark. She smiled, imagining the penthouse, and then the world around her changed, and she felt the floorboards of the apartment underneath her once again.

“Fuck!” Kady yelled, nearly falling off the stool at the counter where she had been nursing a tumbler of whiskey. “What the hell, Julia?”

Julia smiled at Kady as water began to drip off her clothes onto the floor. “Long story. Pour me a glass?”


	10. Chapter 10

Eliot found Quentin standing on the throne room balcony, staring into the Fillorian night. 

“Hey,” Eliot said, leaning against the railing next to Quentin. 

“Hey,” Quentin answered, soft. 

They lingered a moment, both exhausted. 

"I'm sure Julia's okay," Eliot said. Q just nodded. 

“So, Q,” Eliot began. “We should… talk.” 

“Mm-hmm,” Quentin agreed, turning to look Eliot directly in the eyes. Eliot gulped, suddenly nervous. 

Quentin smiled, staring for a moment. And then he surged forward, capturing Eliot’s lips in a searingly gentle kiss. 

“Mmph!” Eliot said, but he leaned into Quentin, reaching up to cup the back of his neck. He tilted his head into the kiss, opening his mouth to press deeper. 

Eliot pulled away after a long moment, shaking his head and smiling. “How come you always get to be the brave one?” he said. 

Quentin smiled, leaning back against the railing. “I don’t know. Guess all this questing did teach me something,” he said. 

Eliot huffed a laugh, leaning against the railing next to Quentin. “I guess so.” 

They lingered a moment, enjoying the peace. Fen’s sobbing had died out a few hours ago, and Penny had travelled away. Julia was still missing, but for now, they could enjoy the quiet of night, somehow so much brighter and more magical than night on Earth. 

“I was wrong,” Eliot said, after a long moment of peace. “I would choose you. I mean, yeah, it was a little crazy, but- I would really like to give it a shot. Proof of concept, right?” 

Quentin threaded his hand into Eliot’s against the railing. He stared at him with eyes full of the same manic hope Eliot had seen in the park. “Yeah?”

Eliot smiled, turning back towards Quentin. 

“Yeah,” he said, leaning down to kiss him again. 

They both knew that everything could, and likely would, go to shit tomorrow. It was their lives, and it was Fillory. But in that perfect, suspended moment, neither of them could bring themselves to care.

**Author's Note:**

> Aaaand that's all she wrote!
> 
> Epilogue: And then they banged. 
> 
> No idea where canon's going with Julia so I decided to leave that part relatively ambiguous. 
> 
> Let me know what you think!!


End file.
